


The Greatest Treasue of Erebor

by Mistress_Hatter (Midnight_Raine)



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-24 03:40:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4904209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Midnight_Raine/pseuds/Mistress_Hatter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deep in the caverns of the mountain was a treasure deemed to be the greatest in all of the riches in Erebor. And it was the one thing Thorin cannot live without.</p><p>(God, I suck at summaries)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Greatest Treasue of Erebor

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I did this for a post I saw on tumblr and I’m going to say sorry in advance if anyone else had written fics with the same idea. I never knew and I never intended to copy said ideas.

                The dragon Smaug had long slept on a vast bed of precious metal. He slept knowing that none would dare challenge his might and that a darkness is seeping throughout the land is about to grant him more power and a chance to expand his already vast wealth. What he didn’t expect however, was a Hobbit by the name of Bilbo Baggins. You see, Mr. Baggins is quite the unusual member of a company of Dwarves who set out to reclaim Erebor from the clutches of the dragon Smaug. If not for Bilbo’s great courage, the Dwarves of Erebor would never be able to go back to the mountain.

 

                                “And he’s my uncle?!” a young, dark haired Hobbit boy asked

                                “Yes Frodo. He’s your uncle.” Frodo giggled.

                                “Tell me the story about the trolls again, Uncle Thorin” Thorin laughed as he carried the little boy to his bedroom.

                                “Tomorrow. Go to sleep now.” He said, planting a light kiss on the boy’s forehead.

 

                Thorin tidied up the room and placed Frodo’s playthings inside the box he made. He then made his way to the sitting room and sat in front of the fire. In front of him was a rather small chair and he stared at it.

 

                                “Bilbo…” he muttered. His hands covering his head as he bent it down to cry.

 

~o0o~

                _During the battle of the five armies, none of Thorin’s company ever thought their King would be cured of his dragon sickness, so it was to their uttermost joy and relief when Thorin walk out to the gate in his old self. More joyous they were at the defeat of Azog and his armies and the company welcomed their guests: Dwarves, Elves, and Men inside the halls of Erebor. It was here that a great feast was held, pledges honored, and friendship renewed. All seem well in Middle Earth…_

_“I believe this should be yours.” Thranduil spoke, making Bilbo jump._

_The Hobbit turned around and saw the Elvenking behind him, a small smile on his lips. He had slipped out of the party and went up to get some night air, and to consider some life choices like the journey back home when the Elvenking surprised him. Thranduil had his hand exstended, and in it was the Arkenstone._

_“Well, technically, it’s Thorin’s.” Bilbo grinned cheekily._

_“Yes. But since you were the one who claimed it, it should be your responsibility to give it back.” The King thrust his hand towards the Hobbit. Bilbo hesitated but took it anyway._

_“Don’t worry, I doubt he will try to throw you again. But to be sure, would you like me to station some of my guards outside to catch you?” The Elvenking said as he walked away._

_Bilbo shook his head and stared at the Arkenstone. But his reverie was soon shattered when someone barged in on him again._

_“May I ask what is in your hand this time?” The deep voice was unmistakable. Bilbo’s heart started to pound as he faced Thorin._

_“I---Well, I was just about to give this to you.” He stammered._

~o0o~  

                Frodo was surprised to see his Uncle Thorin in Rivendell. The Dwarf bade him farewell a day after his birthday saying that he wishes to go back to Erebor. Frodo had been wondering about it. His Uncle had always told him stories about Erebor but not even once did he take him there. For a time, Frodo suspected that Thorin did not want to go back, that’s why he was surprised that his Uncle finally wanted to visit home. He would’ve gone with him as Thorin is already an ageing Dwarf but his uncle would not have it.

 

                                “No, Frodo my lad. This is a journey I have to make myself. One day you’ll understand, and then I will ask your forgiveness. But for now, I beg you to let your tired Uncle go.”

 

There was a sad smile on his face and Frodo reluctantly agreed. Now, in the midst of the peril brought about by the Ring, he was glad to see a familiar face that reminded him of the comforts of home. Right up to the council of Elrond, Thorin and Frodo were always together. Thorin had finished his little book and Frodo spent a great deal of his time reading it. During the council, Thorin had volunteered to take the ring, and even more so when Frodo offered to do the deed. When he was overruled, Frodo made sure to comfort his Uncle.

 

That night, Thorin set out a few items to aid Frodo in his journey.

 

                “These are from your Uncle Bilbo.” He said, opening up a pair of paper wrapped packages. From one he took out the mithril shirt, and in the other, Sting. Frodo gladly accepted the gifts, but noticed how pained his Uncle looked, upon asking, Thorin looked up to him and said:

                                “May they serve you well and protect you from any harm. I’m sure your Uncle would do and wish the same thing if he’s here.” Frodo smiled but Thorin immediately looked crestfallen.

 

Fordo inquires as to the sudden change in his uncle but Thorin did not speak and instead let Frodo read the last chapters from his book; the ones he never let Frodo read. After reading, Frodo turned to the Dwarf who muttered, in an old, broken voice:

 

                                “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, it was all my fault.” Frodo shook his head and hugged his Uncle tight.

~o0o~

                                _“Mithrandir.”_

_Thranduil sought Gandalf after he returned the Arkenstone to Bilbo. Smething was bothering the Elvenking and he neede to discuss it with the wizard._

_“I feel the darkness has not yet passed this Mountain.”his fair face was wrought with trouble and Gandalf agreed. At the back of his mind, there’s a gnawing dread that threatens to surface. He cannot put his finger o it, and he wished he could dismiss it, but now that even Thrnaduil senses it, he cannot ignore it anymore._

_“None has yet to overcome dragon sickness and live to tell the tale. I have fought many Serpents from before and their wrath goes beyond the grave. I am fearing for Thorin Oakenshield.” Thranduil whispered._

_Gandalf considered those words and looked into his heart for some sort of counsel. He knew Thrnaduil has a reason to doubt, and even he was unsure of how Thorin broke free of the dragon sickness. But dragons are nasty creatures, and yes, Thranduil was right in saying that most of the times, the wrath of a dragon goes way beyond death._

~o0o~

 

                After the Fellowship left Rivendell, Thorin also took his leave. Elladan and Elrohir, upon the request of Elrond escorted the Dwarf to the gates of Erebor where Dain welcomed the travelers especially his cousin with a big feast. After discussing some matters with Dain, the sons of Elrond rode away while Thorin reacquainted himself with his old home.

 

                                “I’m glad you’re finally back.” Dain said once they’re alone. Thorin nodded.

                                “I never thought you’d be back after…” Dain’s voice trailed off  

                                “Where are they?” Dain sighed.

                                “We never moved them.” The Dwarf Lord nodded towards one of the halls. Without a word, Thorin walked away.

 

                With each step,Thorin felt his legs grow heavier and his heart beat faster. For years he had avoided Erebor, and he promised not to go back to this place. But now, as he felt his life near its end, he decided to go back. He stopped as he entered his destination. It was the tombs of Erebor, the final resting place of the royal house of Durin. It was meant to house the bones of his family, but so far, it stood empty. Thorin let out a bitter laugh at the thought.

                No, it wasn’t empty after all…

~o0o~

                _With the festivities going on under the mountain, no one heard the screams anguished and loud as they were. It was only when they noticed the prolonged absence of their king that the Dwarves became worried. Thranduil, knowing that Thorin was with Bilbo made his way to where the pair was. Gandalf was on his heels, troubled at what they might find._

_True enough, the Elvenking was right about where Thorin was, but the scene they saw upon arriving was nowhere near anyone’s expectation._

_“What have I done!”_

 

                _Both Thranduil and Gandalf stood motionless as they heard the anguished cries of the King Under the Mountain._

~o0o~                                        

                It is said that the wealth of Erebor spans numerous halls deep in the mountain and that even after settling with the Elvenking and the people of Laketown, the riches there never suffered any real loss. But what is unknown is that the greatest wealth of Erebor is not in the numerous amount of precious metals nor in the Arkenstone. For deep in the tombs of the mountain stood the treasure that the Dwarves protect most.

 

                And Thorin Oakenshiled was standing in front of them.

 

                They were three magnificent golden statues, one each for his siter-sons Fili and Kili, and the other bear a striking resemblance to Bilbo Baggins, the Hobbit who had left the Shire one day and never returned. The statues shone brightly even after years of storage in the tombs, and they seem so life-like that one can almost say it was the perfect replica.

                Thorin reached for one statue but quickly withdrew his hand. With a moment’s hesitation, he turned around and made his way back out of the tomb.

 

~o0o~

                _Gandalf quickly walked to where Thorin was kneeling: in the middle of golden statues which, if he remembers right were not there before. He inspected the statues and the color immediately left his face. One was a statue of Fili who was kneeling down, and the other was of Kili, slightly bending downwards, as if trying to pick something up. And in front of Thorin was a statue of Bilbo Baggins, hand outstretched, the Arkenstone gleaming brightly on floor beneath the golden hand._

_“Dragon’s curse.” Thranduil whispered as he came up beside the wizard._

_Gandalf reached out to Thorin but the Dwarf Lord edged away. He tried once again but was met with resistance._

_“Get away from me! Or do you want to be like them!?” Thorin spat_

                                _“Thorin, what happened?” Gandalf asked mildly_

_“I don’t know. Bilbo and I were talking and he was giving me back the Arkenstone. But when I touched him, he-he suddenly…” Thorin was unable to continue. Gandalf glanced at the statue and sighed._

_“In a little while, Fili and Kili came, I didn’t want to touch them but they came to me, I struggled but they held firm, until I suddenly brushed my hands against them.” Gandalf turned his face away from Thorin, it is more than enough to hear the pain in his voice, the wizard did not want to see how this loss affected the new King._

_Without speaking a word, Thranduil walked over Thorin, grabbed him by the hand and hauled him up to his feet. Both wizard and Dwarf was taken aback by the sudden action, THorin more surprised by the courage of the Elvenking and then his mind gave way to puzzlement as the Elf did not turn to stone._

_“I’ve seen this before.” Thranduil said, looking at Thorin_

_“It’s a curse born from the wrath of a dragon. During the final moments leading up to the dragon’s death, they can gather all their ill will and project it to the person they loathe most. Usually the dragonslayer will fall victim to such curse, but Smaug evidently has a grudge on you. The curse however will be placed, not on the slayer, but on the person or thing he values most.”_

_“Is there a way to lift it?” Thranduil heaved a deep sigh._

_“I believe Mithrandir can lift the enchantment placed on you. However, for these three…”_

~o0o~

                                “You knew, don’t you?” There was no accusation in Frodo’s voice, it was just a plain statement. Gandalf turned to him.

                                “About Uncle Bilbo being turned to gold.”

 

                The Fellowship was taking a much needed rest, and since it was the only time he can talk to Gandalf in private, Frodo took this chance while the others were asleep.

 

                                “Yes.” Was all the reply he could give.

                                “Uncle Thorin was always sad you know. Even though he would smile a lot and tell me stories when I was a child, I can see him sometimes looking deep in thought and with sad looking eyes. I always thought he was being homesick, but now…” Frodo began.

                                “He must’ve really cared much about Uncle Bilbo.” Gandalf smiled.

 

~Flashback~

 

                Frodo Baggins had been hearing so much about the Dwarf that lived amongst the Hobbits. It was said that a year after the disappearance of Bilbo Baggins, a Dwarf suddenly came to Bag End. It is said that the Sackville-Bagginses almost had their hands on the property but the Dwarf would not let them. A settlement was made, concerning a huge payment for the estate which led the Sackville-Bagginses to let Bag End slip out of their hands. It was then that the Dwarf started living there. At first, the inhabitants of the Shire were aloof towards the stranger, the same goes with the said Dwarf, but as months passed and the Dwarf did not leave, the Hobbits became quite accustomed to their new neighbor.

 

                                “Hullo.” Little Frodo Baggins said as the door opened.

 

                His parents had decided to pay a visit to t Bag End, wishing to be acquainted with the new owner and to ask for news about Bilbo. The dark haired Dwarf graciously let them in, served them tea and some bread with cheese and they talked while Frodo was allowed to play with some of the Hobbit children. The first impression he had of the dwarf was scary. Even his deep voice scared him, but the gentle demeanor of the Dwarf slowly won him in the end, especially when his mother made it a point to make regular visits to Bag End.

 

                                “Master Thorin is a nice fellow. He needs all the help he can get to live with us Hobbits, I guess we can help him one way or another.” Frodo remembered his mother saying.

 

                And so, he came to spend most of his time there, and when the tragedy hit his family, Thorin stepped up and offered to take him in. Though he still wondered why the Dwarf chose to live not with his own kin, but Frodo was too fond of his new Uncle to bother asking such trivial matters that he chose to forget the question. But there is one question that bothered him so much, he decided to ask it one time.

 

                                “Uncle, why do we have two cakes?” he asked after blowing the candles on his birthday cake.

                                “Oh, it’s for your Uncle Bilbo. You have the same birthday, you know?” Thorin smiled. Frodo thought something was off about the smile but shrugged it off, his young mind too preoccupied by the wonderful thought of sharing a birthday with someone.

 

                Later that night, when he was awoken by thirst, Frodo made his way to the kitchen for a glass of water but stopped when he heard a soft melodious tone coming from the sitting room. Upon investigating, he saw his Uncle playing the harp and singing a song in his own tongue. Frodo has the impression that song was a sad one, and he noted how his Uncle’s eyes seem to be sparkling. Soon, he noticed that tears started falling from his uncle’s eyes, and despite being afraid of letting his uncle know that he’s spying on him, Frodo walked to the kitchen, got a glass of water and walked back to where his Uncle sat.

                                “Uncle Thorin…” he squeaked, holding up the glass. Thorin stared at him.

                                “I---I saw you crying, I didn’t mean to, but… I hope the water can make you feel better. In one sudden motion, Thorin was on hisknees and was hugging the little Hobbit tight, Frodo could feel the sobs struggling to get out of his Uncle’s chest, and without warning, he too , started crying.

                                “Frodo, I’m sorry, did I hurt you?’ THorin’s voice was full of concern for he knew his strength could be too much and he was feared that he must’ve hugged the boy too tight. Frodo shook his head.

                                “I don’t want to see you crying. I got sad as well. And you were singing a very sa song too…” Frodo sniffed, his words never making up any coherent sentence. Thorin chuckled and sat back on his chair, placing Frodo on his lap.

                                “Then, shall we sing a merrier song?”

~End of Flashback~

                Frodo smiled at the memory. Afterwards, he noticed that every year, his Uncle would sit up all night during his and his Uncle Bilbo’s birthday, singing sad songs to himself and writing in his red book.

 

                                “Sometimes I wished I got the chance to meet him. Uncle Thorin always said I remind him of Uncle Bilbo, and now that I’ve read their story, it makes me want to meet him.”

                                “I’m sure he feels the same way Frodo.”

                               

~o0o~

 

                Thorin had decided to stay in Erebor as he was aware of the threat from Mordor. He wanted the place safe, not only because his kin was there, but also for the treasure hidden in the tombs. Dain had planned to return the throne to him but Thorin refused.

 

                                “My wish is only to safeguard the place.” He smiled.

 

                Each day they could sense the darkness creeping in. Slowly orcs began to assemble around them and they became busy with corresponding with Dale and Mirkwood about any development. Of course Thorin feels uneasy about Frodo’s safety, but he can just pray to Mahal that his nephew be safe from harm.

 

                                “Brother…” One day, Dis came to him, she was holding fresh flowers.

                                “I go to the tomb to visit my sons and Mr. Baggins, will you not come with me?” Thorin gave a wry smile but shook his head.

                                “I’ve decided that the only time I’ll go back there will be when the curse is finally lifted.” He explained. Dis looked sad.

                                “I know it still hurts but don’t you think they will be happier if you spend some time with them?”

                                “No. I caused them to be that way Dis, I will never forgive myself. I only wish to see them when the life finally comes back to their veins.” Dis heaved a deep sigh but hugged her brother nonetheless.

~o0o~

                _Thorin stared unbelievable at Thranduil after the latter explained how they can bring Fili, Kili, and Bilbo back to life._

_“And don’t even think of doing it ahead of time, it will all be useless.” Thranduil said sharply._

_“Then what will I do, huh? Wait and do nothing knowing that three of the persons dearest to me is standing here frozen in time?!” he blurted out._

_“The Halfling spent most of his days saving you from harm, Thorin Oakenshield. This is your chance to pay him back. And you cannot do that if you let your emotions get the better of you.” Thranduil shot back._

_Defeated, Thorin nodded. He then ordered for the statues to be transported deep within the mountains, to the tombs set out for his family. Afterwards, he decided to give the throne to his cousin Dain, and prepared his things for a long journey._

_“Where are you going?” Dain asked_

_“I don’t know.” Dain was about to say something when he interrupted him._

_“I am used to a life of wandering. Don’t worry so much about me.” He smiled._

_“Brother…” Dis said, approaching him._

_“Then why don’t you visit the Shire? See if no one is tending to Master Baggin’s gardens and why not tend to it yourself? Make it ready for his return?.”_

_“That is a nice idea.” He smiled._

_“Then when the time comes, I’ll come back, and pray that I will have enough strength left to see them come back to life.”_

 

~o0o~

                Outside, yells and cheers erupted as the orcs withdrew. The battle is over. They have won. Thorin slowly made his way inside the mountain, one arm clutching his midsection where the fatal blow was struck, and behind him was a trail of scarlet drops. With much effort, he made his way deep into the mountain where they had placed the statues of Bilbo, Fili, and Kili. Relief rushed in him when he found the place devoid of deterioration and that the statues are still in good condition. With breath coming in ragged gasps, the took to using Orcist as a crutch as his legs slowly started to give way. He had to make it. He had to see him, just this time.

                This one, last time.

 

                When he was standing in front of Bilbo’s golden statue, he took a moment to see the golden face, his heart being crushed as he saw the smile on Bilbo’s lips, the smile of relief that was frozen in time.

                                “We’ve won. Again.” He chuckled, but coughed out blood instead. Thorin stared at the red stain on the stone and he knew.

 

                The spell is about to be broken.

                                “I’ve come back.” He muttered, extending his hand towards the golden statue.

                                “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. I just-I-“ his hand grasped the cold surface of the statue, and he focused his failing sight on the smiling face in front of him.

                                “Bilbo…” With a thud, Thorin fell to the floor.

~o0o~

                                “Thorin! Thorin!”

                Thorin’s mind slowly came back to life as he heard his name being called. He wondered who must be calling, and assumed it must have been Dain. The voice sounded worried, and… old. Curious, he willed for his eyes to open.

 

                                “Thorin!” again, there was that voice. Thorin tried to raise his hand and it was caught in the grasp of something warm. Slowly, his vision came back, but even he doubted what is being seen by his own eyes.

                                “Bilbo?! Bilbo is that you?!?!”

 

                Crouching beside him was the familiar face of Bilbo Baggins. Lines were slowly making its way on the Hobbit’s face, but it was unmistakably Bilbo. Thorin raised his hand and Bilbo caught it in a tight grasp, a confirmation for Thorin that the Hobbit is indeed alive. Thorin managed to smile.

 

                                “Y-you’re alive!” Bilbo nodded. The transformation was still ongoing. He saw the bleached hair gradually lighten until it became silver. Bilbo’s once friendly face sag with age, the hand gripping his slowly became wrinkled.

                                “Not for long.” The Hobbit joked. Even his voice was old.

                                “Y-you’ll live. The curse is broken.” Thorin said, he held Bilbo’s hand tight, making sure to control the grip so as not to hurt Bilbo. It was then that they realized the meaning of the curse. Tears started to well in Bilbo’s eyes.

                                “Farewell, Master Baggins.” The King smiled. He raised another hand to wipe the tears running down Bilbo’s cheek.

                                “No, we’ll go together.” Bilbo whispered.

                                “You have to live!” Thorin protested, his voice getting weaker. He wanted to explain about Frodo, about the Shire, about the future waiting for Bilbo in a world devoid of dragons and a dark lord. But words failed him. His spirit is being called to the Halls.

                                “Age has caught up with me. And it will be my pleasure to die beside you.” Bilbo looked up, a beam of light from the ceiling shone upon them.

                                “We have another adventure waiting for us, Thorin.” He looked down at the Dwarf Lord, his eyes sparkling. Thorin nodded, and mustered up enough strength to utter a single word:

                                “Together?” Bilbo smiled at him, his old hands squeezing Thorin’s.

                                “Together.”

 

                Clasped hands tightened and they looked at each other, a smile on their lips as their eyes silently saying decades’ worth of words time didn’t allow them to convey. In a few moments, their grips slackened, hands fell apart as Bilbo slouched, hands falling to his side, his thin hair falling over his face. Then everything was silent.

~o0o~

 

                It was Fili and Kili who first found them. They found the bodies not far from where they stood. Fili ran his hand over Thorin’s eye to close them while Kili slowly laid Bilbo’s body beside their uncle. And there they stayed, their grief had rendered them both speechless and motionless. Only their tears flowed freely.

 

                That night, the celebration ceased as both Erebor and Dale mourned. The trumpets sounded a low hum as a salute to the fallen heroes and the passing of Thorin Oakenshield and Bilbo Baggins. They were laid to rest beside each other, at the spot where they were found. Dain brought the Arkenstone from the throne room and laid it in between Bilbo and Thorin. News of this unfortunate event soon spread around. The King of the Woodlan Realm paid homage and had sparkling white gems surround the bodies of the fallen. King Elessar and Queen Arwen brought some blossoms from the White Tree.

 

                                “Uncle…” Frodo whispered softly as he walked towards Thorin’s grave.

 

                In his hand he was holding a wooden harp which he lat at the foot of the Dwarf Lord’s grave.

 

                                “You left this, Uncle.” He tried to sound jovial but his voice cracked instead.

                                “I gather you’d miss it so I brought it back.” He then proceeded to walk towards Bilbo’s grave.

                                “Uncle drew this a long time ago so he can show me what you looked like.” He unfolded a piece of parchment where a picture of a younger Bilbo Baggins was drawn. He smoother it out and laid it on top of Bilbo’s grave. He put Sting on it as a weight.

                                “He also gave me your sword, I hope you don’t mind. I’m giving it back now.” He said

                                “Uncle Thorin he--- he talked about you a lot.” Frodo was starting to cry like a little child, but he didn’t care, nor did he care about the host of Elves, Dwarves, and Men watching behind him.

                                “I would’ve wanted to meet you. We talked about bringing you home to the Shire, showing you what we did to your house at Bag End. We have a big garden there. Uncle Thorin tended to it, saying he needs to take care of it because you loved it a lot. I’m sure you would’ve been pleased.” He laughed, and yet he couldn’t keep the tears at bay. He wiped his eyes with his shirt sleeve before continuing.

                              “But I’m glad you at least were able to meet again after all these years. Even… even if it’s just a short while.”

~o0o~

 

                There was a feast to honor the guests of Erebor. Tales and songs rang throughout the halls and Men, Elves, and Dwarves seem to have forgotten their differences and were busy talking, singing and laughing. Frodo Baggins made an excuse to be away from the rowdy group and he proceeded to go back to the tombs. He sat down and stared at nothing in particular, his heart still heavy with the loss within his family.

 

                                “What are you doing here laddie?” a voice asked. Frodo looked around and saw an elderly Dwarf approach.

                                “Bofur, at your service.” The Dwarf bowed. Frodo just stared at him.

                                “I know how difficult it must be for you. Here.” He reached out a closed fist at him. Puzzled, Frodo held out his palm

                                “What is this?” Frodo asked, looking at the thing Bofur dropped.

                                “It’s from your uncle Bilbo. He showed it to me once. I asked to hold it for a while, but I never quite got to returning it. It was a busy day back then.” Bofur laughed.

~o0o~

 

                Samwise Gamgee stretched and felt some of his bones creak. He sighed and read the lines he had written, it made him wince a little. He’s not as gifted with words as Frodo or Thorin, but he prays that what he wrote will at least be at par with the other stories in the Red Book. Outside, he could hear small voices calling to him, and soon enough, Rosie went inside to check on him.

 

                                “The children are waiting for you dear.” She smiled.

 

                Sam nodded and his wife escorted her to the door where little Hoobit children were gathered around, all jumping up and down, calling to him. He let himself be led out of Bag End and towards the square, where the old party tree was. The excitement of the children heightened as they approached the young tree in the middle of the field.

 

                                “Look, look up there!” a Hobbit girl said, pointing up the branches of the tree.

                                “The first one, huh, isn’t that great!” Sam grinned, ruffling the hair of the girl.

 

                The children had brought yards of ribbons and hung it along the branch and around the trunk, all of them laughing and yelling and having a good time. Sam looked at the tree. It was a marvel it ever grew, but knowing its history, he knew he shouldn’t be surprised. Instead, he looked up at the sky through the leaves and smiled.

 

~Flashback~

                Frodo was already about to board the ship when he suddenly turned back and ran towards Sam and the others. For a moment, Sam thought his master had changed his mind, but his hopes were brought down when Frodo just took his hand and placed something inside.

                                “Keep this. It’s been in my family for ages. Maybe you can do something about it.” Frodo’s blue eyes sparkled. Sam looked at the object.

                                “It was given to me by one of the Dwarves in my Uncle’s Company, he said it belonged to my Unlce Bilbo and he told me what my uncle said about this:”

~End of Flashback~

                                “‘I’m going to plant it in my garden… and every time I look at it, I’ll remember, remember everything. The good, the bad, those who survived, and those who did not…’ I think you can add it to your garden. And once it grows, you can look up and remember us.” Sam can still hear Frodo’s voice as he relayed it to him.

 

                Sam felt the wind against his face and the bright sunshine. Once again the children laughed. Sam heaved a deep breath and smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a short fic, I don’t know how in hell it got up to thirteen pages. Sorry if it was dragging at times, I wrote this in a hurry as the only time I can get to write fics is when I’m supposed to be sleeping (thus I’m always sleep(ing)y at work). I think I kinda liked the idea of Thorin raising Frodo…
> 
> Find me at kamen-rider-rainbow.tumblr.com if you have prompts of any kind. I’ll be willing to write a fic for you. ;)
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!


End file.
